Today I took a BuzzFeed quiz…and then I took another, and another. Before I knew it an hour had passed; an hour that could have been better spent brainstorming ideas for a new vegetable hybrid (Brusselkale, anyone?) or watching strangers on YouTube wash their face. The last time I got duped on such a level was when my coworker convinced me to order lunch from the new corner de-LUXE-catessen. You know – the type with $16 salads and a staff that makes you feel stupid for not knowing the correct pronunciation of “jicama.”

Bite number one is delicious, but that’s only because your blood sugar is low. Halfway through you realize you don’t even like arugula, and it’s possible you’ve been swayed by hand-lettered chalkboard menus and overzealous Yelp reviews. The emptiness you feel at the bottom of the bowl is a void that can only be filled by double digit Instagram likes…Don’t worry, it will taste better in retrospect Kelvin.

The only difference between BuzzFeed and a millennial salad is the price tag – and I didn’t pay to ride this rollercoaster of emotion.

At this point I feel like we’ve veered a little off course. Sure I weave myself an intricate topknot on occasion, but that can’t be the only criteria. Contrary to popular belief you can still be uptight in a 90’s-era-J.Lo inspired wardrobe. What I am is what I am…and that’s a Marnie.

Kate Moss might be the original hot mess. Sure, her hair is always perfectly tousled, but if it takes four cocktails and a whirlwind night of dancing to achieve it, well then I just can’t hang. If there’s one thing I do consider fun it’s late night pizza, and this bitch is sure to give that activity the axe. BuzzFeed, we should take a break.

Everyone has a designated Target; the one they go to when the Friskies is scarce or the deodorant’s run dry. It might not be the most convenient place to purchase said items – it’s probably not the cheapest either – but the warm fluorescent lighting and vast opportunity to buy knick knacks for a buck really make it feel like home. My Target is located in a strip mall between my two worst nightmares: Kohl’s and Verizon Wireless…and I picked today to swing by.

Upon entrance I witnessed the following interaction:

Mother: “Please take your phone off vibrate. Turn the volume way up, so you can hear it if we get separated.”

Gone are the days of dancing down the Swiffer aisle on a Wednesday at 2pm, leaving my shopping cart askew as I sounded out each ingredient in a tube of Crest. While I am pleased to have finally changed my LinkedIn title to something other than Freelance Barista, having to run errands on the weekend feels a lot like flinging yourself into the tiger’s den…and bitches be hangry.

Let this be a cautionary tale – here are three individuals spotted today that you should avoid on your next run.

The Free-Spirited Toddler Mom: It’s unclear whether this mom is trying to instill freedom of expression by way of cereal selection, or if she simply doesn’t believe in those folding shopping cart kid seats. Either way – there’s no wrangling the troops. Steer as clear as you can (no one actually needs granola) to minimize the risk of running over a rogue two-year-old.

The Frustrated Flannel Stroller: I’ve certainly pushed the boundaries when it comes tosweatpants in public – but full-on pajamas almost always signals a little misplaced anger. This Target guest will likely fill their cart with romantic comedy sequels, and anything labeled “Take n’ Bake,” then follow you into the parking lot and yell at you for speeding.

The Non-Essentials Bro: This guy’s cart is full of shit nobody needs, much less immediately – think car air fresheners, a can of mixed nuts, and size D batteries. While standing unnecessarily close, he will repeatedly express his concern for the lack of checkout lines open. If absolutely unavoidable, keep him quiet by offering up your latest Starbucks discount code…because the only thing he’s missing is cup of empty calories.

Much like Beyoncé, I woke up like this. No, not flawless…mildly anxious. Some of my primary concerns include the long term repercussions of UV gel manicures, and how edgy an onlooker might rate my new bangs. If we’re gonna read off the menu, I’d most likely be a hypochondriacal stew, with a dollop of dance like everyone’s watching. Nothing that’s prompted a doctor’s visit thus far, but rest assured my palms are always sweating.

It happened almost overnight. In the spring of 1997, you could say I had it all going for me – my parents finally gave in to the idea of cable television, and my sand bottle collection was hovering around 28. On a scale from swings to The Sizzler, I was doing doubles on the Tilt-a-Whirl – that’s pretty adventurous…who knew an overgrown bush was about to kill my vibe?

It grew over a fence in the back corner of our playground; an unruly honeysuckle vine with bright yellow flowers. Word on the street was they were edible. While dozens of my nine-year-old cohorts danced in the sunshine enjoying their sweet nectar, our school nurse perused the Yellow Pages for the number to Poison Control. Having recently graduated from the D.A.R.E. program, I knew that drugs were classified as anything that can make your teeth fall out. As I looked around at my friends, incessantly petal plucking, I tried to imagine a toothless Spice Girls cover band…was nature’s pixy stick really worth it? Sooner than I could say “NO” an emergency assembly was called to let us know if we had consumed said honeysuckle nectar, we would likely never get to witness the release of Titanic on VHS. Ultimately, this was a big fat false alarm, but the panic instilled in me was very real…Honeysuckles: My Anti-Drug.

As you may have imagined I’ve spent many a year successfully avoiding peer pressure – the only chemicals I’ve willingly ingested came in the form of an unhealthy obsession with pre-packaged turkey slices during college…they were mesquite flavored.

Though intangible, what I actually associate with danger is spontaneity. I know, how unfun. This becomes increasingly difficult to deal with considering the number of social media personas we’re expected to uphold. Navigating your way through a sea of selfies is exhausting enough, only to stumble upon a filtered brunch still life that whispers “psst, be envious of my life well lived.” Suddenly your camera roll is useless, your tweets aren’t funny, and the only road to redemption is to climb a mountain and then blog about it. No wonder FOMO is running rampant. Too bad I can barely get past the capital “F.”

All this to say that when someone tries to pressure you into something per way of a “live in the moment” pep talk, remind them that it’s your moment…and then compulsively check their Instagram for likes.

Unfun Fact: I will forever be the friend your mother wants you to hang out with.

Fourth of July has long since been one of my favorite celebrations…. And, through the existential experiment that is this blog, I’ve finally been able to put my finger on why.

Modern day technology is absolutely terrifying – rather, I find it terrifying. Books are no longer made of paper; cars will be driving themselves within the next decade; and the only thing we’ll still be responsible for is remembering to brush our teeth every morning – although it won’t really matter because we have Skype.

The most nightmarish of all, though, is Google Glass…Nobody knows more about you than Google. Sure, the less-than-fashion-forward accessory is still in the research and development phase, (prototypes were distributed only to select applicants) but it’s only a matter of time. Soon that little friend we keep around, if only to avoid blackmail, will rest comfortably upon our temple. One wrong roll of the retina and every one of your contacts will hear about the time you asked her how zero-calorie soda works; what Kim Kardashian looks like without a weave; and at what time of day public restrooms are cleanest. Careful next time you confide in that bitch.

But – back to the topic at hand: Independence Day. When it comes to holidays, I’m not sure how meaning is translated to tradition, but any excuse to eat a bacon-wrapped cheeseburger aside from, “Hey, it’s Sunday!” works for me. While I could do without the parades, give me a healthy dose of Vitamin D and 20 minutes worth of medium-grade pyrotechnics, and you’ve got the highlight of my year. No gifts, no gadgets, just lots of DEET-free bug spray…the way our Founding Fathers would’ve wanted it. If John Adams had Twitter, I’d like to believe his bio would read “Keep It Simple, Stupid.” John Hancock’s? “Long Live Penmanship.”

Let’s pretend, for the purpose of this blog post, that I am not a slightly neurotic, macaroon-hating, 24-year-old female; but an artisan coffee-guzzling, silver fox with a luxury sedan and a green thumb…and I’m on a quest – for Martha Stewart.

In case you haven’t heard, M.Diddy (as they called her in the clink) is the newest member of Match.com. The 71-year-old mogul is searching for someone who loves “animals, grandchildren, and the outdoors.” What sounds simple enough becomes exceedingly complicated when you factor in international fame and a net worth of over $600 mil. Plan on treating her to a five star meal? She wrote the recipe. In fact, she’s home perfecting it at this very moment – using nothing but namesake, cast-iron cookware from Macy’s.

Courting Martha Stewart seems decidedly unfun. Thus, I had no choice but to propose an itinerary for our first date.

Food – A first date should be low-key, no pressure. Assuming Martha and I will be meeting up in the city, a food truck seems like the perfect choice. Dinner on wheels is all the rage. Not only does it scream hip, it eliminates all accountability. There is a mutual understanding that cramps may ensue; after all, your taco was cooked on a hot plate in the back of a repurposed van.

Fun – Provided she doesn’t receive an “emergency exit” phone call from her pal Matt Lauer, next stop is the park. What’s more romantic than a sunset stroll? Well, a woman in sensible shoes, of course.

Film – Last stop is a classic… Let’s go to the movies! Specifically, “The Big Wedding.” I’ve taken the liberty of pre-screening for appropriateness, and while the all-star cast does not quite overshadow the lack of both rom and com, Diane Keaton’s still got it. Grab Martha a popcorn and tell her how much she resembles the A-List actress – ladies love compliments.

What do you think…would she call me back?

In all honesty, men must find Martha’s success extremely intimidating… Forget boyfriends – I’d rather find the Gayle to my Oprah.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the unfunnest of them all? Just because I’ve adopted the term, doesn’t mean I’m leader of the pack.

Gwyneth Paltrow has been getting a whole lot of press recently… People Magazine named her “World’s Most Beautiful Woman 2013,” a week prior she was Star’s “Most Hated Celebrity.” Girlfriend’s got some serious range. Whether or not we need it, the Internet has provided us with much insight into the inner workings of her life. From what I gather, her tapestry is spun of both unknowing pretention and exhausting attempts to be relatable.

Before we choose our sides of the fence – Let’s review some of Gwynnie’s most recentunfun quotes, shall we?

On cosmetic surgery –“I would be scared to go under the knife, but you know, talk to me when I’m 50. I’ll try anything. Except I won’t do Botox again, because I looked crazy. I looked like Joan Rivers!”

Forget the Joan Rivers diss – Does it strike anyone else as odd, that a woman who consistently preaches an organic lifestyle would inject poison directly into her money maker? One innocent eye lift, and that bitch will be banned from the farmer’s market.

On the Met Gala – “I’m never going again. It was so unfun. It was boiling. It was too crowded. I did not enjoy it at all.”

I thought successfully curating a lifestyle blog and enjoying a good old museum fundraiser went hand in hand – boy was I wrong. Sounds like the only thing more miserable than walking the red carpet in Valentino Haute Couture, is having to endure a Coldplay concert in its entirety.

On lady grooming – “Every time I have a bikini wax, Cameron Diaz holds me down.”

Here is a woman who acknowledges the importance of female friendship…and when it’s not appropriate to name drop Beyoncé.

What do you say…Is it time to pass the torch?

Unfun Fact: Gwyneth Paltrow is the Starburst of A-Lister’s – a juicy contradiction.

Today I had the opportunity to attend an event at work called Engaging Both Sides of the Brain. Throughout the two hour seminar, my coworkers and I were presented with ways to utilize both the right and the left – a strategy intended to enhance leadership skills. First, we were given a handout listing the characteristics of each…

As the slide show went on and my coffee grew colder, I began to self-diagnose… Could the unfun core of my being be attributed to a right side brain that completely resents the strengths of the left? Probably not – Right Side Brain seems like an ultra-hip indie film character that looks great in scarves and doesn’t pass judgment. If we’re going to point fingers, I’d say good old Lefty is a real bitch. Supporting anecdote? Here goes…

Last night I gave yoga a second chance. I breathed, I stretched, I Namaste’d…Heck, I even enjoyed the fifteen minute guided meditation. The dusty gym floor turned to sand beneath my body; the smell of industrial strength Lysol more refreshing with each ocean wave. This was a safe place – one where a fresh pedicure was not a prerequisite for removing your socks. Right Side Brain thanked me… Captain of the Anti-Meditation Squad made me oversleep by an hour and a half this morning. Screw you, Lefty; I still made it to work on time.

Unfun Fact: Punctuality is appreciated, but not as much as quick Listerine rinse.

I know I typically post the Unfun Weekly Roundup on Friday, but hey – there are no rules. (At least that’s what I would say had I been cast as a free-spirit.) Honestly though, some of this news was just too shitty to let slip by…Going for Gold: Word on the street is – Ryan Lochte wants Kim Kardashian’s life. Who needs 11 Olympic medals, when you could be an exotic fur-wearing globetrotter, spending your afternoons promoting milkshakes and sunless tanner? Lochte, who will be starring in an upcoming reality TV show on E! explained, “Kim started from pretty much nothing, and now everyone everywhere knows who she is. That’s what I want to do.” A good first step is adding Ray J to your LinkedIn network.

Gosling for Life: Ryan Cabrera got a new tattoo – a portrait of Ryan Gosling’s face on his calf. Let me take a minute to refresh your memory…Ryan Cabrera was that guy with the hair who sang “On the Way Down” and dated Ashlee Simpson. Apparently he was taking part in the ol’ pastime dubbed tattoo roulette. It’s when you choose the design for your friend’s tattoo and then blindfold them until it’s finished. This is slightly dumber than it is unfun, but hey, he can always cover it up with a handsome tribal band.

My Kind of Thief: A 34 year-old Illinois man was arrested by New Jersey police with 21 tons of stolen Muenster…that’s like 3 adult male elephants if you need a point of reference when it comes to weight. The man obtained the cheese when he provided false paperwork to K&K Cheese in Wisconsin. With a refrigerated truck and $200,000 worth of product, he set off with the dream of selling it at a discounted price to the black market along the east coast. Ultimately the cheese will be inspected and remitted to local charities. It sure is someone’s lucky day…I bet black market cheese tastes so much better.

About to Blow: Three extreme kayakers recently headed to Hawaii to film a segment for the Brazilian TV show Kaiak. Their expedition included paddling thorough a red-hot lava river next to the Kilauea Volcano – one of the world’s most active. The ocean was said to be so hot it could burn your hands (if you were curious enough to stick ‘em in.) I once bought a kayak from DICK’S Sporting Goods, and I’d be surprised if it withstood the temperature of my dishwasher – so shout out to their manufacturer! Also, do you think adrenaline junkies filter their Plenty of Fish searches strictly to licensed EMT’s?

Sheer Disaster: Sheree Waterson, Lululemon’s Chief Product Officer, has resigned following last month’s shocking yoga pant recall. Approximately 17% of all women’s pants within stores were see-through. The company released the following statement, “We want you to Down Dog and Crow with confidence and we felt these pants didn’t measure up.” I never actually Down Dog in my yoga pants, but I would be embarrassed if I unknowingly exposed myself at brunch…Just kidding, those bad boys are way too comfortable to care. Namaste, girl.

If this were a quick round of word association, you’d say: unfun actress, I’d say: Jessica Biel. She’s never really seemed like a blast, though her marriage to Justin Timberlake raises a red flag. Mr. Suit and Tie himself recently admitted to “tripping” at Coachella – does this make her free-spirited by association? That’s a risk I can’t take.

I have yet to think of an individual whose being is entirely unfun. Instead, I’ve compiled a list of multi-faceted, A – C-Listers, whose qualities I’d like to cut and paste. Here goes…

Now that I think of it, I wouldn’t be opposed to having Flo from Progressive play my feisty BFF. She’s got a dense IMDb page, but can still probably dine in comfortably at Panera Bread…and life is all about balance.

There is so much hype surrounding probiotic yogurt, you probably wonder how we ever got by without it…The thought occasionally crosses my mind, too. It’s important to remind yourself that we’ve also thrived as a society before the inception of baked kale chips – so all is not lost.

In short, probiotics are a type of good bacteria that help support digestion and boost the immune system. You could easily ingest a supplement via gel cap; but according to prime time television, two to three fructose-filled helpings of Greek yogurt per day are much more enjoyable. Not to mention, everyone in the office will come to find the only thing regular is what’s in your lunch bag.

Popular brand, Chobani, refers to the probiotics in their product as “Live and Active Cultures…” If we’re gonna go ahead and personify them; I imagine a live and active culture might resemble that green Mucinex guy – a friendlier, distant cousin; much more skilled in managing your Outlook Calendar. They must travel in herds…sliding down the wall of one’s small intestine yelling things like:

“Jaime Lee sent us!” “Let’s get this party started!” “Dance like John Stamos is watching!”

Sound like fun to you? By all means, hit the dairy aisle. I’ve never been much of a social butterfly, so I guess I’ll have to let nature take its course.